Sethnet Journal: August 1, 2008
A monthly e-zine that highlights the creative energy of over 1,400 souls exploring the work of Jane Roberts and Rob Butts.
Volume Forty Six
Pyramids Please! by Jim Rathschmidt
In This Issue:
Discover Your Intent Name: A Rose Channeling by Joanne Helfrich
Healing Me by Nardine Neilson
A Dream, a Question, and a Promise: Chapter 5 by Pamela Gibson
The Homeless by John Beder
Discover Your Intent Name: A Rose Channeling
by Joanne Helfrich
Every individual who ever lived had a special intent in life. We suggest you do as well, and that when you allow yourselves to provide your intent name, you will find many things happening in your lives to help you get on your way of spirit, for intent names are very powerful things. Don’t take our word for it: find out for yourselves!
Take a look at one example: George Washington, “the father of your country” of the United States of America. Do you already know what his intent name would have been had he discovered this? His would have been familiar to you: Father of Countries. For his intentionality was, in every way, to spawn your country, as well as to father many individuals in their way of spirit. For he wanted the existence of your country in ways that would be considered funny: he was a Gramada former as well as Borledim nurturer. So is it not surprising that he became the father of the country of the United States of America?
The way to determine your intent name is to allow yourselves to read the introduction to our families of consciousness and then set out to discover your belonging to and aligned with. They are very easy to identify: your intentionality is in every way aligned with your greater self. Your greater self, ontologically speaking, is your essence or soul. So your essence has a certain tone to it, as well as your focus self, who is you in physical form. Both create a sort of harmonic that would be considered your intent in life. So round up all your many individual focuses of essence to allow you to discover what your intentionality is at the essence level, then what it is at the focus level. In this, you’ll find out more about yourself than ever.
Now, once you’ve identified your belonging to, realize these are how you work in the world in very allowing ways. These identifications will be representative of the most effortless things you do. If you’re an artist, you may be Sumari. If you’re a healer, you may be Tumold. But if you’re not connecting with one directly, realize that sometimes the aligned with is not what you would think. It may be more of a subsystem going on that you need to pay attention to. So your wanting to express Tumold, for example, may be in healing yourself, and this is how you move into areas of development. So you can think of your aligned with as a development area, and in this, you are exploring this intentionality.
So when your George Washington, for example, felt that he was not a good father, remember that he was exploring this as a means to allow himself to develop. So your alignment is your development area, and your belonging to is your allowing area. Okay?
Next, try to imagine your best, most wonderful thing to do in the world. That’s right – in the world – for you’ll do well to consider that you need to work in the world in ways that allow your best expressions. Ask yourself: “If I could change the world, how would I do that?” And the answer will be expressed in your intent name. That’s right. Just try to imagine how you would provide your wonderful, effortless expressions in ways that are unique as well as satisfying, and you have your intent name.
When you’re ready to move into your way of spirit, you’ll need to take your intent name with you! Do so, and we’ll assist. ~ Session 263, June 28, 2008
Healing Me
by Nardine Neilson
Why am I writing this what do I know
just that the past won’t let me go
the more I continue the path I explore
the lessons within me I cannot ignore
my past is the hurdle to which I am bound
until I release it my peace won’t be found
anxiety keeps me locked in and shut down
it causes discomfit and wears a frown
I need to release this coil I hold tight
the constriction it causes I’m ready to fight
I see that my need to protect and be closed
is against Gods’ law to reveal and expose
the ocean of love within my heart
is meant to flow outward and saturate all parts
for parent or child friend or spouse
a home is not home till love fills our house
I’m healing myself with patience and care
forgiveness is constant when I view from there
that all of us seek to love and be loved
and doing our best brings peace joy and love
A Dream, A Question, and A Promise
By Pamela Gibson
Chapter 5
Wednesday, February 22 (continued)
I sat in the cold Homicide interview room and faced Jeff across a small square table. “Really?” he repeated.
My face felt hot. I nodded.
“Go on.”
I took a deep breath and forced myself to speak, “I felt so humiliated after Jaaku told those lies about me, and scared, thinking the firemen would believe him. But looking back on it now, I see a silver lining. I found out Jaaku was a liar and dangerous from the start.”
I saw the scene in my mind’s eye as if it had occurred the previous day instead of three and a half years earlier. Seconds after I dispatched Ramp 7 to an F-4 engine standby and Vic’s deep voice saying, “Ten fourteen (on the scene), Control,” filled the alarm room like a friendly cloud, a crop of goose bumps popped out on my bare arms. In spite of the warm humid air from the perpetual fan of island trade winds wafting through the open door, I shivered. A swivel of my chair revealed Lee, one of the Rescue crew, standing by the door, a lascivious grin on his face.
“Ooh, girl!” His skinny hips swiveled in a bump and grind. “Jaaku’s talking trash about you and some Navy fire chief dude “doing the dirty” in here last night.”
Before I could sputter a word of defense the other Rescue men strolled in, smirks on their faces. They leaned against the edge of the alarm console’s unstable counter and looked me up and down. “Oh God,” I thought, “They think I’m a slut.” My racing heart told me I’d better seize control so I said, “Can’t you see how the counter’s buckling? Don’t lean on it.” They straightened up and I added, “Okay. Let’s hear it.”
One of them said he knew I did yoga but had no idea I was so limber. Another asked if I was busy Friday night. The third one told me that my sweet and innocent face wouldn’t save my ass from being fired for such lewd behavior.
To say I was unnerved is a gross understatement. After just two weeks on the job, I was still struggling to learn the ropes and make a good impression. I anxiously rushed to defend myself. “I live with my boyfriend, Abe,” I said. “And I’m not the butterfly type.”
When I’m unexpectedly attacked like this, my mind turns into a semi-permeable membrane, absorbing thoughts and impressions like a sponge, some from other people and events, some from the crevices of my own mind. Did they believe this Jaaku character? Did they really think I was a slut? Would they hear me when I told them I wasn’t? Were they going to harass me from now on? Would I have to transfer out of here?
“Fire Chief Fernandez dropped by after a late alarm, to talk stories,” I stammered. “But we weren’t…” My face and neck felt hot. The guys took pity on my obvious distress and gave me the details, which I relayed to Jeff now.
“Jaaku told everybody he was listening to a tape in his car after midnight when he saw the lights dim in the alarm room and noticed a red fire chief’s pickup truck parked in front of the station. He said he peered in the alarm room’s little back window and saw me and a stranger ‘doing it’ on the floor.”
I remembered word for word what the guys told me Jaaku had said, words I couldn’t make myself repeat to Jeff. “Hey, I’m tellin’ you, da guy was really pounding Pam. Pumpin’ her hard, yeah, dat’s right, and she went moan and scream like one bitch in heat. No lie, bruddah.” The way Jaaku told it, I lay on my back, the man on top of me, my legs stretched back over my head so far that my toes touched the floor. Jaaku postulated that the reason I was such a “limber haole broad” was all the yoga I did.
“I’m not a pretzel,” I told my tormentors. “And I’m not like Sheila.” I imagine some of them hoped I was. I’d heard the gossip about Sheila, a young military dispatcher who’d been stationed at Hennessee a few years prior, and the firemen who stopped by the alarm room for more than conversation when she worked midnight shifts. Sheila got pregnant from who-knows-which fireman, all of the potential sperm donors refused to marry her, and she was kicked out of the Air Force, taking her “A- and B-shift baby” with her.
“I had no idea why Jaaku was slandering me,” I told Jeff, “but after I got over the initial shock I got angry and told the guys, ‘Jaaku’s a liar. Next time I see him I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.’ The guys split then except for Jimmy Broz. He told me everybody knew what a liar Jaaku was and nobody believed that story, so not to worry. ‘If you wanted to make love, we know you’d do it in a nice soft bed, not on the hard alarm room floor,’ he told me.”
“Jimmy’s words made me feel better. I told him I’d figured Jaaku for a blowhard the day I met him.”
Sweat from Jaaku’s palm had moistened mine when Henrietta, the alarm room supervisor, introduced us. His black slits of eyes glanced everywhere except at me. I wondered if a knife caused the scar that ran from cheek to chin across his pockmarked face. He sucked in his loaf of a gut but his white undershirt was still visible across the widest part of his belly where his blue uniform shirt gaped open like a misplaced eye.
Jaaku’s hand clung to mine as he said, “Welcome aboard, Pam. Hey, da guys went tell me you one lovely wahine and da buggahs no lie.” I thanked him for the compliment and pulled my hand away. “Take one smoke break, Henrietta? I like talk stories with the pretty lady from the Navy.”
Henrietta rolled her eyes at me. As soon as the click of her high heels faded away, Jaaku launched into nonstop chatter. He gestured and strutted, his whole body punctuating stories about his Navy days and the wild haole nurses he’d known and I was haole, too, wasn’t I? I wanted him to know I wasn’t like those nurses so I told him I was ‘taken’ and had been with my local boyfriend for five years. He said, “You all right, Pam. You ain’t the kind of broad who thinks you ain’t right unless you white.”
I opened my mouth to say “thanks” but he sped on with, “Bet you never know I was stationed on an aircraft carrier in ‘Nam.’” I shook my head and he pantomimed how he fought fires on deck from the falling ordinance that fell with a “ka boom!” He slammed his body hard against the alarm room floor, sprang up, dragged an imaginary fire hose and extinguished the flames “dat was all around” accompanied by the “whoosh, whoosh, whoosh” of water from his invisible hose. His performance was funny and animated and I thought, “This guy’s a character.” Not wanting to offend him, I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
I told Jeff, “Jimmy said, ‘Yeah, but Jaaku’s worse than a blowhard.’ Jimmy warned me that Jaaku stabs people in the back and said, ‘Don’t ever confront Jaaku. He gets even in nasty ways.’”
“‘Like how?’ I asked.”
Jimmy proceeded to tell me about the time Jaaku shot his own toe off when the two of them hunted pigs in the Koolau Mountains. I now relayed the story to Jeff.
“The week before they went hunting, Jimmy told me he’d yelled at Jaaku when ‘the lazy bum,’ as he put it, tried to avoid station clean up. Jaaku threw blows at Jimmy and they duked it out until Jaaku said ‘uncle.’ They shook hands afterward, local style, and Jaaku pitched in so Jimmy thought everything was cool between them. But when they were walking in the mountains, Jimmy taking point, Jaaku yelled, ‘Hey, brah, I get one beef for settle wit’ you.’”
Jimmy looked back and saw Jaaku running toward him, rifle raised. Then he tripped on a tree root and his gun fired. Jaaku screamed like a banshee and blood gushed out of the bullet hole in his shoe. ‘So I bandaged him up,’ Jimmy told me. ‘He kept thanking me, over and over, but I knew that bullet had my name on it ‘cause of what happened in the station the week before. Lucky for me he gets clumsy when he’s all riled up. That’s the last time I hung out with him.’”
“Jimmy also said Jaaku slapped the chief and got away with it, and cut Bob’s brake lines when he promoted someone else. And after one of the firemen ‘crossed him’ he had his lowlife pals beat up the guy’s mom and brother so badly they ended up in a hospital.”
“I asked Jimmy what a mad-dog criminal like Jaaku was doing working at Hennessee. ‘For one thing,’ Jimmy said, ‘He’s a damn good firefighter, absolutely fearless in a fire. For another, the firemen don’t think he’s a threat. They figure he’s just a little guy trying to act tough. All talk, no walk. Aah, no need worry, Pam. Don’t confront him and he won’t bother you. He doesn’t bother me any more. I just stay out of his way.’”
“Oh, sure,” I thought. “How can I avoid him in this cul-de-sac of an alarm room?”
My heart banged against my chest as I continued, “After hearing how Jaaku ‘gets even’ with people, I vowed to never, ever do anything to upset him. The…the…” I stuttered. I hadn’t expected it to be so unnerving to remember it all, talk about it, and simultaneously withhold part of what I knew from Jeff. True, Jimmy was the first one who’d told me stories about Jaaku’s crimes. But what I wasn’t telling Jeff was that Jaaku later told me those stories and more, bragged about his cruel acts, and pantomimed it all out in an attempt, I imagine, to impress me.
“Go on,” Jeff said. The expression on his face was concerned. “Relax, take it easy here.”
Jeff’s seemingly supportive manner made me feel all the guiltier for withholding information from him. However, I rationalized he was just trying to put me at ease so I’d tell him everything I knew. I continued, “The next shift, someone must have told Jaaku I was angry at him because he cornered me in the alarm room.” He stood so close I could smell the toxic ammonia scent of his beading perspiration.
“‘I never said you was fu—doing him,’ Jaaku told me. ‘Some asshole’s lying to you, trying to make bruddah Jaaku look bad. Who went tell you dat?’ I didn’t want to name names so I said, ‘Lots of people.’ He shrugged and said, ‘All I said was dis red fire chief’s car was parked in front of da station and I went see dis chief and you inside da alarm room. And who knows? Da two of you mighta been getting it on. Hey, I never mean to offend you, Pam. I wouldn’t blame da guy, one pretty lady like you. What you expect?’”
“So, once again, I had proof Jaaku was a liar because so many people had already filled me in on what he really said,” I told Jeff. “But I didn’t dare confront him and answered, ‘Well, if all you said was might, I accept your apology.’ He said he liked me and thought I was cool because my old man was ‘one local brudduh’ just like him. I thought, ‘Abe’s nothing like you,’ but kept my mouth shut. He repeated, ‘You all right, Pam.’”
“What other incidents did you have with Jaaku?” Jeff asked.
“Last October I had him kicked out of the alarm room for telling me obscene stories. He’d been telling me these gross tales about women he’d supposedly been with for about a month. Then he told me a story I just couldn’t stomach.”
Jaaku had sauntered into the alarm room and launched into a story about this chick who gave him “red wings” when he “ate her out.” A couple of firemen were sitting in the adjoining assistant chief’s office, taking it all in. Jaaku looked me in the eyes and said, “Don’t you think she shoulda told me she was on her rags before she went ask me for eat her pussy?” The firemen snickered.
I wanted to slap them all. Unable to contain myself, I started to hiss, “I don’t give a—”
when the red fire airfield emergency telephone rang. I dispatched the alarm - hot brakes on a C-5 on Runway Four Right - and Jaaku and the others ran to their trucks. Saved by the bell indeed.
“It was the last straw,” I told Jeff. “I knew I either had to find a way to stop him from annoying me or quit my job. It depressed me that I couldn’t tell him off but I didn’t dare confront him. I was afraid if I did he’d think I was “crossing him” and make me pay in some painful way.” That Jaaku thought he was impressing me was testimony to his sociopathic insanity and my skill in pretending to give a rip.
Jeff’s gray-eyed stare anchored me and I continued, “So I went to the deputy chief and told him somebody on A-shift was bothering me and I wanted to keep the door to the alarm room locked. That way, everybody would be kept out and no one person would feel excluded. The deputy said he would speak to Sergeant Maxwell, the assistant chief on A-shift, and tell him what the situation was.”
“From then on, I kept the door shut. The following night, I was working four to twelve on A-shift when someone knocked on the alarm room door. I looked through the peephole. There stood Jaaku, guitar in hand. I had to open the door; otherwise, he’d know he was the one I was trying to keep out. He sat down and told me he wanted to sing me a few songs. Then Mad Max…that’s our nickname for Sergeant Maxwell…walked into the assistant chief’s office and gave me a funny look as if to say, ‘What are you doing with the door open?’ So I asked Jaaku to take over the alarm room while I took a bathroom break. I walked outside and Mad Max followed me and asked me if Jaaku was the guy who’d been bothering me.”
“I said, ‘Yes, and keeping the door closed isn’t going to work.’ He offered to kick Jaaku out of there for me. I told him, ‘You don’t understand. Jaaku does hurtful things to people when he thinks they’ve crossed him.’”
“He shook his head and gave me a look that said he thought I was a nervous Nellie. ‘Jaaku’s just a blast of hot air,’ he said. ‘He talks big but I doubt if he’d really do anything.’”
“I wanted to protect this naïve man from Jaaku’s back-stabbing revenge if I could. ‘Let me try and handle it first,’ I said.”
“Max looked doubtful but agreed to let me try. ‘Remember,’ he said, ‘I’ll kick him out of there if you want me to. Kick his ass, too.’”
“So I took my break. When I came back Vic was sitting at the station captain’s desk, filling out some training reports, and Jaaku was leaning against the back desk, guitar in hand. Jaaku started telling me a graphically pornographic story about some woman he’d been with. I had decided to tell Jaaku, very nicely, that I’d rather he wouldn’t tell me about his conquests, and had begun by saying, ‘Jaaku, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…’ when Mad Max popped into the alarm room and heard me.”
“He turned to Jaaku and said, ‘Jaaku, are you making a nuisance of yourself?’ At that point Vic, seeing what was happening, practically ran out the door.”
“‘I ain’t doing nothing,’ Jaaku insisted.”
“Mad Max ordered him to get out and stay out of the alarm room. Later one of the guys told me Max called everybody into the training room and told them he didn’t want anybody annoying the ladies in the alarm room.”
“A little while after Mad Max booted him out, Jaaku strode into the assistant chief’s office, leaned against the alarm room door, looked at me suspiciously and asked, ‘Did you say anything to Mad Max?’
The lie came easily to my lips, ‘No. You know how uptight Mad Max is.’ Jaaku looked convinced and I breathed a sigh of relief that he didn’t think me responsible.”
“That’s pretty much the whole story, except that, a few days later, Vic asked me why I’d had Jaaku kicked out of the alarm room. ‘Because he was totally grossing me out,’ I said.”
“‘You were used to him, weren’t you?’ Vic asked.”
“I told him that it just got to be too much, his stories make me sick and I couldn’t handle it anymore. Vic said he understood.”
“That’s good, that you didn’t confront Jaaku,” Jeff said. “You will make a good witness at the trial, Pam. One guy you liked, one guy you didn’t. Now I’d like you to repeat what you told me but this time we’ll get it on tape and I’ll ask you some questions as we go along.”
Nervous at being recorded, I repeated the story with a shaky voice. It was easier the second time, accompanied by Jeff’s skillful prompting, but I kept thinking, “What if I have to testify about this stuff?” When he finished taping me, Jeff asked, “Does your conscience feel better now that you’ve told the whole truth, Pam?”
Unable to look Jeff in the eye, I turned my head away and looked at the cracked tile on the floor. “I don’t know,” I muttered.
“Now is the time to come forward,” Jeff said, his voice radiating confidence. I dragged my gaze from the floor to look at him. His gray eyes stared into mine and I sensed the sincerity and purposefulness with which he approached his job. "Now tell me, why were you afraid to confront Jaaku?”
“Because I figured, if he’d do those things to other people, he’d do them to me, too.”
“Yes!” Jeff’s voice rang with conviction. “That’s not an unreasonable fear.” I felt validated by his words but still guilty at my deceit. He proceeded to tell me the slipping-in-the- bathtub story again, forgetting he’d told me the same story on the night of the murder. “You wouldn’t stop taking baths because that’s where most home accidents occur, would you?”
“No.”
“Fear is just fear. You can’t let it rule your life.”
“But how do you avoid fear?” I wondered. I didn’t get it. Jaaku really did awful things to people and Jeff had just said it wasn’t unreasonable to think he’d do them to me as well. His rather lame imagery reminded me that, after all, he was a cop. In the world according to Pam, the possibility of slipping in the bathtub paled beside the fear of Jaaku’s certain retaliations. Several months passed before I understood what Jeff was trying to say, that you have to confront your fears and overcome them or else they will keep you captive forever.
Changing the subject, I said, “You know, Vic said something to me the last day I saw him at work, the day before he was shot. I thought he was just kidding around, teasing me as usual. But then he stretched out those large hands of his, stuck them right in my face, and said, ‘Look at the size of these hands.’ Looking back, I think he was trying to tell me that he had some conflict with Jaaku and was planning to settle it with his hands. And another thing. I heard you found Vic’s gun lying on top of his neatly made bed when you searched his apartment on the day of the murder.”
“That’s right.”
“Did you notice how organized Vic was, nothing out of place in his apartment, everything tidy?” Jeff nodded. I went on, “I think his gun lying there was a statement. He knew there was going to be trouble with Jaaku and considered taking his own gun but decided to rely on his physical strength instead.”
“I also think the two of them had been arguing for several days, because the firemen tell me Vic just wasn’t himself at work for four or five days before he was killed. He almost got in a couple of fights over minor stuff at work, which wasn’t like Vic at all. He was such a mellow, easygoing guy. Something was bothering him.”
“What do you think the argument was about?” Jeff asked.
“You may think I’m crazy but I think Jaaku was coming to work that morning to kill some of the supervisors.”
“Yes!” Jeff’s voice was full of conviction. “That’s what the police think. And Vic got in the way.”
“He was probably trying to talk him out of it,” I suggested. “That would be just like Vic.”
Jeff escorted me to Homicide’s front door. “Thank you for coming,” he said.
Embarrassed by his undeserved gratitude, I whispered, “You’re welcome.”
As I walked away, he called after me, his voice full of admiration, “You’re helping us!”
I turned around and smiled. Then quickly turned away so he wouldn’t see my tears.
Thursday, February 23Was it my heavy heart that slowed me down and made it seem as if I was walking through water rather than the clear tropical air of this cloudy day? The one-and-a-half blocks from my place to Vic’s seemed like miles. Why had All That Is allowed the murder and the ensuing sad events to transpire? Seth said no man dies before his soul acquiesces but I had a hard time accepting that Vic had agreed to this on any level. I railed at the cruel fate that was propelling me toward Vic’s pad to help his sister distribute his belongings on this my 36th birthday. Vic had turned 36 just three months earlier, on November 14th. I’d mailed a birthday card to his home so no one at work would know. He appreciated my “stylin” card and my discretion and promised to take me to a movie when my birthday rolled around.
I trudged up the three flights of stairs to his apartment. When I reached the second floor landing, memories grabbed me and I had to sit down. This was the very spot where, the previous Halloween, I’d startled Vic when I was walking up and he was striding down the stairs.
I’d constructed a great costume for myself. The Paper-Mache pumpkin head I’d painstakingly layered over a large balloon base with strips of newspaper and glue was spray-painted orange and sat like a huge inverted bowl over my head. I had trouble seeing out of the triangle eyes and the pumpkin head muffled my voice so that nobody could tell it was me inside. The costume’s foundation consisted of long-sleeved, black leotards and tights. I tied large, green crepe-paper leaves and small orange balloons, painted with black marker pumpkin faces, around my arms, waist and legs. My idea was to be a pumpkin patch. I hoped to win the prize for most original costume at an upcoming party at my friend Ellen’s house.
On the afternoon before the party I decided to try out the effect of my costume on Vic, flirt a little, and hopefully give him a good laugh. I drove the three blocks to his place, removed the muumuu I’d worn over tights and leotard, tied on leaves and balloons, and donned my pumpkin head. When I was walking up the apartment stairs Vic happened to be striding down, his long legs spanning three steps at a time. He stopped, stunned, at the sight of me.
I held out a paper bag. “Trick or treat!” I said with a muffled voice.
Through the pumpkin head’s triangle eyes I saw the fear in his. “I don’t have anything!” he yelled, and rushed past me and down the stairs.
I pulled the mask off and called down the stairwell after him, “Vic! Wait! It’s me, Pam.”
A few moments later he stuck his head around the bend in the stairs, a wide grin on his face. “I didn’t recognize you,” he said. “I thought you were a…sicko.”
We sat down side by side on the landing. He told me it was a swell costume, all the more so because I’d obviously made it myself. We talked awhile, then he walked me down the stairs to my car and told me he was on his way to Jaaku’s place. When he opened my car door for me a puzzled look settled on his face. “Did you come over here just to show me your costume?” he asked hesitantly, the thought just occurring to him.
“Yes. I wanted your opinion.” I hoped he wouldn’t think I was chasing him. “Aren’t you flattered?”
He grinned from ear to ear and said, “That’s cool, that’s cool. My opinion—the winner of the most original costume is…drum roll…Pam the Snaky Lady, queen of the dispatch office.”
“Thanks.” My face felt hot and I wondered if I was blushing.
I drove back home, parked my blue VW bug in the driveway, and had stepped out of the car when Vic pulled in behind me in his red pickup. “Thanks for dropping by,” he yelled from the cab. “I’m sure you’ll win. What’s the prize and when do we celebrate?”
I thought, “You’re the prize and we can celebrate any old time” but I was tongue tied by my crush on him so I just shrugged and smiled. He waved as he sped off. I felt flattered that he thought enough of me to drop by and wondered why he chose to hang out with Jaaku. I decided that these two fun-loving bachelors probably had a rollicking good time together and that sneaky Jaaku undoubtedly hid his sinister side from straight-forward, good-hearted Vic.
My reverie was broken by a sudden, cool breeze that carried the sweet, aromatic scent of mock orange blossoms from the bushes below. Goose bumps popped out over my bare arms. A feeling possessed me, that Vic sat beside me now, his presence as certain and real as it had been when he sat beside me last Halloween, joking and teasing. I hugged myself, basking in the joy that grew in my heart and moved up my spine like a shot of energy to explode in tingling sensations all over my head.
A wrinkled old man passed me on the stairs and gave me a suspicious look. I looked away, determined to hold on to the delightful, otherworldly feeling. It passed far too quickly. I stood up, feeling almost weightless now, and walked up the two remaining flights of stairs. I’d read in one of Seth’s books that the “so-called dead” seek to comfort those with whom they have emotional ties because they know that the living feel sad and lonely without them. I whispered, “Oh, Vic. I miss you so. Thanks for ‘moseying on by.’”
The front door of Apartment 409 was open. With a wave of his hand, Tom ushered me inside. Barbara squeezed my hand and said, “We just finished eating some junk food, dear.” French fries and hamburger remains, in greasy, ketchup-soiled containers, littered the small white kitchen table.
“Fast food beats cooking when you’re busy packing,” I said, and thought, “I ought to make them a home cooked meal.” My eyes took in the empty kitchen cabinets and the dishes and pans neatly arranged on the kitchen counter. “You’ve made amazing progress.”
Clothes, record albums, and tapes were stacked in neat piles on the living room floor, and a large pile of odds and ends occupied one corner. Several plastic storage cubes, boards, end tables, and lamps leaned against the couch. “I called some of Vic’s friends after you called me,” I told Barbara. “Lino and Mick will be coming over pretty soon, and some of the other guys said they’d come over tomorrow.”
“That’s good. We’ve got two weight benches, lots of weights, and a bicycle we want to give away to Vic’s friends, besides all this stuff.” Barbara motioned to the piles stacked around the living room and kitchen. “We’re shipping the rest of his belongings home to Mom and Dad.”
“It’s nice of you to give Vic’s things to his friends,” I said.
“It’s more personal than giving them to charity.” The lenses of Tom’s wire-rimmed glasses magnified his hazel eyes. “And we think Vic would want us to.”
Tears stung my eyes. “Yes, I think he’d like that.”
Barbara draped a comforting arm across my shoulders. “Were you Vic’s girlfriend?” I shook my head, unable to speak. “You were so broken up about him, we thought you might be.”
“I wanted to be,” I stammered. “I was crazy about him. I went on a double date with him but he took me straight home after the movie and said, ‘Well, I’m going over to Jaaku’s pad now, to join some dudes in a poker game and down some suds.’”
“Phooey on him.” Barbara laughed and gave me a squeeze. “But that sure sounds like the Vic we knew and loved.”
Her warmth set me at ease. “Vic was so straight forward. I think he just took me at my word when I told him that, ever since my boyfriend split, I quit going to movies because I hated going alone.”
I flashed back to that night in the alarm room. Vic’s energy was high, like a sunbeam of pure radiance, so alive, a big grin on his face, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. He’d said quite innocently, “I’d go with you to a movie sometime.”
“Really?” I couldn’t believe my luck. “Oh, that would be fun. Thanks. How about next Saturday night?”
That startled him. He mumbled something and quickly split from the alarm room. The intercom rang soon afterward and Red said, “So. I hear Annie and I are going to the movies with you and Vic this weekend. ”
“Oh,” I said. “That’s great.” I now told Barbara, “Actually, I sort of twisted his arm.”
“If he let you twist his arm, I’m sure he wanted it twisted,” Barbara assured me. “Nobody made my brother do anything against his will.”
“Well, that’s true. He was very independent. You know, the guys at the station called him the Incredible Hulk. But I thought of him as the Incredible Hunk.”
“I’m sure he liked you too, dear,” Barbara said. She looked at me with those blue eyes that reminded me of Vic’s, only hers were moist with tears.
Her kind words to me in the face of her own sorrow touched my heart and I sobbed, “Thank you.” And then, “I miss him.”
“I miss him, too.” Tears ran down Barbara’s cheeks. “He’s with Jesus now. Nobody can hurt him anymore.”
Tom silently placed one arm around his wife and the other one around me. The three of us broke down together, holding each other until the waves of pain receded. Then he said, “Pam, there are some of Vic’s things we specifically want you to have.”
Barbara pulled some tissues from a box and handed a couple to me. “Oh, yes,” she sniffled. “There’s a ceramic aquarium that Vic stored in the back of his closet. It’s just beautiful. Come take a look at it.”
The aquarium was shaped like a porthole, two sides of which were inset with glass. The other two sides had ropes strung through ceramic loops for hanging from the ceiling. I lifted the small ceramic lid and saw a tiny yellow light bulb screwed into a socket.
“It’s gorgeous! Vic showed it to me once but said he couldn’t hang it up because the pole for his gravity boots was installed in the only spot that would hold it.” I ran a finger across the rough surface of the artistic object. “He told me he bought it from Rare Discovery, an expensive art store. He always said, ‘You get what you pay for!’”
“We would ship it home except we’re afraid it might break. It’s so fragile,” Barbara explained. “And we want you to have Vic’s shell chandelier and whatever albums and tapes you’d like. Pick what you want from the dishes, too.”
The shell chandelier consisted of thousands of little shells sewn together and strung in leis that hung in three tiers from a shell studded, square rim. It was exquisite. I told Barbara that Vic had great taste, the aquarium and lamp would look lovely in the apartment I was buying, and I deeply appreciated their kindness. “It’s like I’ll be able to keep a little bit of Vic around me in my new place.” I wondered if these lovely things could help drive away the loneliness waiting for me in the apartment that Vic would never see.
Tom helped me carry the chandelier, aquarium, some records, tapes, and dishes down the three flights of stairs and load them into my VW. Back in Vic’s apartment,
Barbara asked me, “Do you know Norma, the old lady who lives downstairs in number 307?” I shook my head. “She was like a grandmother to Vic. He wrote my folks about her, saying she reminded him of Grams, our deceased grandmother. Like Grams, she baked bread and goodies for him. We met her; she’s a delightful lady. She told us that Vic helped her out, took her places and fixed things for her, ever since her husband died last September. Poor thing, she’s so upset by this. Why don’t I give you her phone number? I’m sure she would love to meet you since you both cared about Vic. I know she’ll feel lonely after we leave next week.”
I wrote Norma’s number down and invited them over for lunch the following Thursday. They accepted, saying they would fly back to the mainland the day after that.
“One more thing before you go.” Barbara picked up her address book. “We talked to my parents a few days ago and told them about you. My mother would like to write to you. May I have your address?”
“Of course. I’d like to write to her, too. And to you, Barbara.”
We said our goodbyes. I descended the stairs and paused once more at the second floor landing. Tears captured my eyes again, even though I believe in my core that Vic lives in the presence of All That Is, whose loving, knowing light permeates and potentiates everything.
“I feel your joy, Vic,” I whispered. “Thanks for ‘moseying on by.’ When you’re near, it’s magical. And I’m so happy that you ascended into light. But I feel like I’ve fallen into the darkest night. I’m not traveling blind, though. Your love lights my way.”
See the
April issue of SethNet Journal for the first chapter of “A Dream, A Question, and A Promise.” Pam welcomes your feedback. Please feel free to email her at lyricpam1@yahoo.com.
About Pamela:
Pam recently completed six mini-articles on native Hawaiian plants, to be published in future issues of Hawaii Parent Magazine. She’s working on an article about the Hawaii Theatre for Youth. Her article “Connecting Kids with Nature, Hawaiian Style” will be published in the fall issue of the Fish and Wildlife News. Her article “Hawaii Parents Speak Out about Healthy Food Choices” is the cover story of the July issue of Island Scene Magazine.
Pam emailed a SethNet Journal link to her lovely godchild Rebeka, who will return to Hawaii in October to be married. Rebeka wrote: “Your story was all very good and kept me on the edge of my seat! Please email me when you put out the next chapter. I never knew you went through such a horrible event.”
Pam says, “Rebeka was a toddler when it all came down. Her mother, Robin, was and is a dear friend. She’s also one of only four people (my stalwart friend Marianne, my dad’s former employee Paul, and Red’s girlfriend Annie) who offered me the refuge of their homes after Jaaku made bail and I was afraid to stay alone in my own apartment. I’ll always be grateful.”
The Homeless
by John Beder
What is it about
The mind that dislodges
Instead of providing
For comfort and lodging
Preferring instead
to ‘doze over and through
With the lowered blade of
Blunted Brain
Unable, unwilling
To compassion a view
Of seeing own one's
Crushed by the weight
Of a dis-owned dis-tractor
To make no provisions
For compassionate view
No place, no space
for a gentling dwell
We then become
the homeless,
the shiftless,
"Those Ones" repelled
Announcements, Links and Shopping
Introducing Wisp E-Zine
Though we are no longer in the age of the stylus and clay tablets, there is still some truth remaining in the Latin saying "verba volent, scripta manent" (spoken words fly away, but writings remains). Especially in our fast paced world of instantaneous communication where written words can become as fleeting as spoken words once were.
Brought together as a group of people with similar interests, through social networks of all kinds, personal acquaintances, chatrooms and newsgroups from all over the world, we soon found out that there was a fascinating magic at play in the beautiful interweaving of our stories.
And it often all happened so fast, that time for contemplation was reduced to a few seconds.
So we decided to start some new adventure, to let us expand this natural beauty, and give it a fertile ground to thrive.
A sort of lively garden nestled in the swarming buzz of the city, where time is suspended and true sharing can occur.
Thus, Wisp was born. Wisp, like a flock of birds, or like a wisp of smoke...
Wisp is above all a playground, where everyone desiring to share about his or her own adventure is welcome.
It follows the flow of the energies involved in its creation, and the good-will (o'wisp) of its contributors.
The next issue is planned for July. Till then, feel free to browse the archives at http://wisp.focusphere.net and who knows... you may want to get involved :)
Online Energy Games
Join Dale Evans each Tuesday 4-5 p.m. (Eastern) on Yahoo Instant Messenger for Group Energy Games. Connect with IntuitiveFacilitator on Yahoo IM for an hour of energy fun and games.
Free and open to the public.
Dale Evans is an Intuitive & Psychic Coach and Energy Worker who has been studying, teaching, and exploring metaphysical phenomena for over 40 years. Her teachings incorporate direct personal experience in order to foster and nurture self-acceptance and trust in one's natural abilities. Dale is also a published poet, newspaper reporter, and freelance journalist whose work is seen in print and on various websites, e-zines and online journals. Visit her website at http://www.itallbeginsnow.com/Home_Page.html
SUMARI SHOPPING
A collection of products and services offered by Seth fans around the world.
If you have a product or service you'd like to see listed here, feel free to contact us at SNJ@newworldview.com
Explore the works of Visionary Artist Shirley Hadley!
The photographs you see below were created by Shirley in her studio, and not through electronic manipulation. Each photo is available in 5x7 or 8x10 and includes a poem that goes with the photo.
Entrance to Awareness
The journey of the self is
to see without using your eyes
to hear but not with your ears.
Listen to your inner voice, it will lead you
to an awareness of new ways to view your
selves and the world you live in.
Rainbow Dimension
Mysterious shadows suspended in the sky
rainbows connected, self-awareness is reflected.
Shades of color and dimensions of light,
holographic images, illusions of night
To see the full selection of photos and for purchasing information please visit Shirley's Gallery.
New from Sharon Hackleman, author of Marion the Magnet
MIND TIME CARDS
"Mind Time Cards are a deck of 31 inspiring positive daily affirmations created by Sharon Hackleman and illustrated by Jessica Glickman. The SOUL purpose of creating the Mind Time Cards is to teach teens about the magical powers of positive thought and the importance of feeling good about themselves-
Spirit, Mind, and Body!
$9.95
FREE SHIPPING
when ordered on mindtimecards.com
"We are all connected...intertwined...by a universal energy so divine." - Sharon Hackleman
Free Seth CD from New Awareness Network
This CD contains additional Seth excerpts that are not on the sethlearningcenter.org website)
This CD contains selections of Seth speaking on a variety of topics along with explanatory notes by Rick Stack, former student of Seth and Jane Roberts and President of New Awareness Network.
For ordering information, Click here.
Sethworld - A board game based on the Seth Material
Explore your beliefs! Stretch your imagination! Delve into your dreams! Challenge your creativity!
Seven years in the making, I am so pleased to be able to offer you SethWorld - The Game of All That Is! SethWorld is a totally unique game, the first metaphysical board game based on the Seth material - maybe the first metaphysical board game, ever! It is designed to explore and uncover beliefs while having fun. There are no winners, no losers, and NO RULES! A 24-page pamphlet included with the game gives a probable framework for play, 6 sample "moves," and a glossary of 61 concepts.
SethWorld -- You've never played anything like it!
WHAT A COINCIDENCE Understanding Synchronicity In Everyday Life
by Susan M Watkins
Overview:
What if all those seemingly insignificant little What a coincidence! moments you've experienced were actually connected, were part of a larger, more complex coincidence story?
What if they were hinting at something very personal and important about yourself—and about the workings of human consciousness?
Would you listen?
Susan Watkins does. For more than 35 years she's been documenting and studying the coincidences that have happened in her life. What she's discovered is that seemingly simple coincidences—thinking of an old friend and their calling seconds later, for example—are often pieces of larger, more complex and meaningful "coincidence clusters."
A former newspaper reporter and the author of five books, Watkins has always been intrigued by coincidences—what they mean in our everyday lives, and in the grander scheme of things. What, she asks, do these coincidence clusters say about human consciousness and human connection? In What a Coincidence! she presents coincidence clusters that are utterly astounding. What they reveal is life- altering.
What a Coincidence! is an exciting, groundbreaking journey. Along the way Watkins offers profound insights as well as practical pointers on how to become aware of the coincidence clusters in our own lives. She also shows us how to document coincidences so that we, too, can reap their valuable rewards. We'll never brush off those What a Coincidence! moments again.
Party Like It's 2012
Just one of the great metaphysical t-shirts, bumper stickers, greeting cards, buttons, mugs and clocks available from the Conscious Creation Shop by Kristen Fox and John McNally
SETH CONNECTIONS
Meetings of both the physical and non-physical kind
If you have a Seth group or are planning a get together for Seth fans, and would like to see it advertised here, email us at SNJ@newworldview.com
BAY AREA SETH GROUPS
If you live in the San Francisco area you'll want to check out the new Bay Area Seth Groups website. Their calendar is chock full of events hosted by seven different groups around the Bay area.
Seth Network Japan
Dear friends, I'm happy to announce that Seth Network Japan,was created in December 2005 by a small group of Japanese Seth fans. We also have a website that introduces the Seth Material to our visitors.
If you know any Japanese speaking person who might be interested in Seth books, we'd be glad to welcome him/her on the site. For those who feel like having a look at Japan, we have a small slide show that presents different parts of the country.
So, you are all welcome. :-)
Cheers,
Masa
Greetings from the Portland-Metro Seth Readers' Guild
We meet the 2nd and 4th Tuesdays of every month. Our first meeting of the month is for reading aloud and commenting. Right now, we are reading "The Seth Material" in the first half of the meeting, then we take a break for drinks and treats and conversation. During the second half of the meeting we have started reading "Seth Speaks". We end the meeting variously with a psy-time, or reading from the Seth deck of cards. Of course the reading goes slowly, because we always have a reason to stop the flow for comments--current events, family or personal tie-ins, etc. This is how we use the material, and it seems to work.
Our second meeting of the month is what we call the experiential
meeting, which can range from a past-life hypnosis psy-time, to a video of interest on a current topic, or a time of general discussion. We did some remote-viewing experiments with pretty good results.
Our meetings start at 7 PM and go to 10 PM. The host provides tea, coffee or other drinks, and we bring finger food. There is networking, friendship, and stimulating talk on all kinds of subjects during the break. We aim to keep our focus on our primary reality, and learn from each other how to deal constructively with the secondary reality of our greater world.
Drop-ins are welcome--call Marie 503-232-6469 or email harakne@yahoo.com for our meeting locations or any cancellations."
Cool Conscious Creation Resources on the Web
2008 Conscious Creation Calendar of Events
Sethnet Basics - get the most out of Sethnet
Sethnet Archives - lots of free articles and material
Random Seth quotes
Conscious Creation Links – Conscious Creation Publishers, Book Stores, Websites, Journals, Newsletters, Mailing Lists, Message Boards, and more.
The Elias forum - website by Paul & Joanne Helfrich contains an expansion of many of the conscious creation concepts introduced by Seth/Jane Roberts, channeled by Mary Ennis.
What if the Seth material was a foundation to be expanded later by other channeled sources? Can any perennial source ever be considered complete AND infallible?
Seth readers will want to check out:
Introduction & Overview
A Seth, Elias Comparative Overview (Updated!)
Digest: Seth, Jane Roberts
In The Rose Garden - a blog by Joanne Helfrich who channels the essence of Rose as mentioned in the Elias forum.
The Kris Chronicles - an expansion of many of the conscious creation concepts introduced by Seth/Jane Roberts, channeled by Serge Grandbois.
A Kris, Seth, Elias Comparative Overview (Updated!) - a preliminary comparison of core concepts in the Seth material, information offered by Elias, and Kris Chronicles
Otherfocus.com the personal website of Donald R. Johnson
Explore the creative worlds of John McNally and Kristen Fox Cofounders of the Conscious Creation Website and Email group John and Kristen share interests in writing, art, photography and cooking which they explore on a variety of websites:
John and Kristen's new Green blog: It Should Be Easy Being Green
Intuitive Astrology site: Psychic Weather
Writing: Mind Altering Fiction
Photography: Telepathicfrog
Cooking: Food Follies
Shop: Telepathic Frog Designs
Shop Powered By Tshirts
Kristen's weblog: FoxVox
Art & Photo Gallery: Art of FoxVox
Art & Photo Prints: Deviant Art
T Shirt Reviews Tshirt Casserole